Left Broken
by serenitymeimei
Summary: Pete had known from the very beginning that there was something... off about H.G. Wells and, more specifically, about H.G. and Myka.


**Disclaimer:** Warehouse 13 isn't mine. If it were, the shiny lesbian subtext would be _text_... just sayin'. (see profile for a REAL disclaimer)

**A/N:** Found on my hard drive and dusted off for The International Day of Femslash 2012. Happy reading everyone!

* * *

Pete had known from the very beginning that there was something... _off_ about H.G. Wells and, more specifically, about H.G. and Myka.

He'd felt it the first time they met, a gnawing deep in the pit of his stomach so strong that nothing short of an anvil could have dissuaded him from feeling it. Sure, the old cougar had trapped him in an embrace and rammed her tongue down his throat at the time, but there'd been some sort of silent exchange between the two women that day- his own tesla pressed tightly under his jaw- that even a blind man could see. He didn't need his vibes for that.

So, after the previously bronzed agent was reinstated, Pete reluctantly distanced himself and watched them from afar. He noticed how comfortable they seemed with one another, how quickly his partner had let the other woman in (much faster than she had with anyone else, including him), and he could see how much it bothered Myka that none of them had really accepted Helena yet.

During the day they kept it professional, but more often than not once evening hit he'd find them sitting in the parlor drinking tea, reading until the rest of the house had fallen silent, in their own little world. And then at the breakfast table they'd sit close together, pouring each other coffee, tea, or juice like they'd been doing it for years while sharing sections of the morning paper, murmuring in soft tones when they found a particularly eye catching story.

It was odd. The more he watched, the more fascinated that he became.

"Hey, Myks?" he dared to ask, both of them stuck on inventory duty while the others packed for their trip to Egypt in search of Warehouse 2, "Can I ask you something?"

His partner paused in her perusal of the shelves and turned to him with a weary eye, "Am I going to want to hit you after you blurt out whatever it is that's on your mind?"

Pete winced, already fighting the urge to cover up little Pete and curl up in ball somewhere she'd never be able to find him, "Maybe?"

Her brow furrowed, a frown settling heavily across her features, "Fine. Go ahead and ask, but don't say I didn't warn you."

Looking down at his clipboard, he re-read the data that he'd just checked, hopeful that she wouldn't take this the wrong way.

"Have you ever- I mean- Women, have you ever been attracted to them before?"

Bracing himself for anything, he squeezed his eyes shut and tensed his entire body, but nothing came. When he chanced a glance over in Myka's direction he knew, without a doubt, that his suspicions had been correct. Her wide eyed expression said it all.

"What?" she exclaimed, her voice going all shrill, exactly like it did when she was trying to hide something, "Why would you even ask me that, Pete? That's personal!"

He shrugged, signing off on another shelf with a quick flick of his pen, "It's nothing. I was just curious. You weren't exactly surprised yesterday when H.G. all but came out of the closet."

Myka's cheeks tinted a faint pink and she quickly looked away, "Oh, that. Well, from the stories that she's told me about her past, it wasn't that much of a leap to assume she may have taken a woman or two to bed."

It made sense, but he knew that there was more she wasn't saying. He'd let her hide if that's what she really needed.

"So, H.G. was a total lady pimp back in the ye olden times, eh?" he chuckled, "Good for her!"

She smirked, relaxing a bit now that he'd moved the focus off of her.

"That's a crude way of putting it, but yes, apparently Victorians were a lot less inhibited than history has depicted."

Pete grinned and nudged her with his elbow, "Oh, _reeaaallllly_? Do tell, m'lady."

"Pete! I will not divulge the sexual exploits of one of the most famous authors that we know today, or a friend's," she scoffed, but she was still smirking so he knew he hadn't pushed too far.

"Fine, fine," he surrendered, "but you know it would be okay, right? If you did?"

Myka froze, her face covered by a curtain of hair as she looked down at her paperwork. Pete listened carefully to her breathing, or lack thereof, and was just about to forge on and into a new topic of discussion when she spoke.

"Yeah?"

Her voice was so soft that Pete had barely heard her.

"Yeah."

A few more moments of silence passed before she finally worked up the courage to look in his direction and he smiled softly at what he saw. She looked happy, well, mildly embarrassed, but mostly happy. It was such a change from their first year at the warehouse, when he'd find her gorging herself on sweets in the dead of night, still mourning her last partner's death.

"Do you think you could-"

"Finish the inventory?" he grinned, "Yeah, I could do that."

She smiled widely, glancing down at her feet, "Thanks Pete."

"Yeah, yeah," he waved her off like it was no big deal, "Just don't let it get out that I'm a big old romantic at heart. I've got a reputation to uphold."

He winked at her, and Myka snorted.

"Now go on," he shooed her, "before I change my mind."

She nodded, stopping by his side as she passed by to press a chaste kiss against his cheek, "Goodnight, Pete."

"Night."

* * *

It was only as they were getting ready to head to the airport the next morning that Pete accidentally saw Myka press a fleeting kiss to H.G.'s lips at the top of the stairs. It was the first time that he'd seen the British agent and not had that weird feeling deep down inside, the little voice that ticked away in the back of his mind and told him to cut and run before it was too late.

If only he had listened to himself. He might have been able to stop it, might have stopped her. But he didn't and that's when it all went to hell.

They arrived home three days later a ragtag crew, but more or less in tact. Then Mrs Frederic started reading them a letter. In that moment Pete knew that Myka was gone. That didn't stop him from running frantically through the warehouse though, desperate to catch up to her, to change her mind. He collapsed helplessly into the dirt, out of breath, tears streaming down his cheeks as he watched the SUV that he and his partner had shared for nearly two years speed away. He thought they'd been safe, that the worst of it had passed. But, no, Myka was gone. She was gone and he couldn't help but feel like it was all his fault.

For the second time in Pete's life, he vowed to never again ignore one of his vibes. He refused to lose another person that he loved.

**End.**


End file.
